“I know.” I’m crying. Crying so hard. I need this explanation so much. This why. Again, the image flickers before my eyes like a broken neon tube. The dream fades.
“Hey... Don’t cry, baby, you promised.” You pull me to you by the collar of my down jacket. “You know I can’t stand it when you cry like that. Tucks, I want you to laugh. That’s why we did the whole trip in the first place. It was never about me. I was never important.” I feel your breath gently on my face, and I want to whisper,Yes, you were important to me, you were everything to me, but you’re already speaking. “Maybe we don’t get an answer for every why in our life... I have no idea. I only know one thing: you should be happy. That’s all I wish for, Tucks... promise me that.” You pause and look at me. “You know, in my life... I’ve done so many things wrong...”
I smile through my tears. “And so many things right,” I finish your sentence because I’m the only one left. And every question that’s inside me, I have to answer myself every day.
So often, I wonder what you felt on your last flight. What you thought about. If there was something you thought you could have fixed. I don’t wish for myself. I don’t wish for it for you. I hope so much that you felt free. As free as you always wanted to be.
I take a deep breath. I’m still standing there, arms outstretched, tears streaming down my cheeks.
For a moment, I want to jump and touch you in infinity, in the deep blue dream of eternal night. I firmly believe that you’re there, making music with the stars. And I believe in what you once told me—that a musician paints his picture in silence. Andif that is the case, your most honest song is playing inside me. You wrote it during my silence. The song is about life—guilt, forgiveness, love, leaving, being abandoned. About collapsing and getting back up again.
I lean forward a little, but in that moment, I only feel your hands on my shoulders in my mind and hear you whisper,Hey, Tucks! This is not your path.
I back away, breathing the fresh, cold air deep into my lungs.
Good girl. Now go!
It takes infinite effort, but I hurry back to the middle of Old Sheriff, where I really saw you for the first time in my life, your hair disheveled, looking like a fallen angel. And I feel your smile on my back. The smile that saved me.
That’s good, Tucks. That’s good.
I blink through my tears and see Arizona at the other end of the
bridge. She’s just standing there, waiting.
My heart warms.
I start running, untying the swan from my wrist and throwing it into the air with a loud scream.
Crane and swan. River and Tucks.
River.
I slow down.
I glance back one last time, and for a tiny moment, I see you sitting there on the platform in the light of memory.
I know that, whatever happens, a part of my heart will always belong to you—River McFarley, the boy on the bridge.
And so, your wish comes true because, for me, you will always be the boy from the river.
On every starry night, in every breath.
For me, you will always be River McFarley.
THE END
